Ask around about lunch containers. Get told by oodles of people to go for the billion dollar solution, because, “Really, it lasts for years.”
Agree with longevity and quality argument, but refuse to buy the container on principle, because you can’t be tricked by clever marketing. Believe there has to be something out there between Dollar Tree parts you’d have to replace monthly, and this bandwagon.
Angst about that on-sale Target lunch bag you posted on Facebook that everyone laughed at. “What the hell, Alana? It’s bigger than your kid! He can’t even carry it!” Know that no one is the boss of you, but wonder if your child really will break an arm trying to carry it.
Just buy the billion dollar brand name lunch solution already. Of course you also buy the water bottle and some replacement parts, because you’re no dummy, and if that one mouthpiece goes missing in October, and you have to order a $1 part online with $8 shipping, you will lose your mind.
Obviously it makes sense to buy the coordinating carrying bag, and the custom-fit ice packs as well. Get purple, because there is no favorite-orange option, and second-favorite is pink. But you’re so sad kids might make fun of a boy with a pink lunch container. So you opt out of pink, and reinforce the gender binary.
Feel like a real failure for every aspect of this step. Except the extra parts foresight.
Do a test run of the new lunch box at home. Learn that the sandwich will only fit if you cut the crusts off. This makes you angry because you’ve trained your child that you’re not a crust-removal service, and they can simply leave what they don’t want to eat.
Have child refuse to eat the billion dollar crustless sandwich, because they don’t like that part of the bread, and it tastes funny.
It’s that easy!